


Sock Sliding Into Your Mid 30s

by Desdimonda



Category: Naruot Shippuden, Naruto
Genre: And loves his booty shorts, And named his Alexa Datara, Drabble, Fluff, Happy Birthday Uchiha Obito, Humour, M/M, Obito gets many presents, Obito goes sock sliding, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: Obito’s forgotten it’s his birthday. Someone hasn’t, though.——Written and drawn for day 9 - Obito’s Birthday!! - of KakaObi Week 2019.





	Sock Sliding Into Your Mid 30s

Obito slides across his living room, not smoothly, and almost crashes into his sofa, unbalanced. “Yeah. I need socks for this.”

He pauses, thinking, before falling back onto his sofa, his legs sticking out of the back, while his body lies across the seat, arms stretching high above. Kamui never got old. 

“Datara, change track to Just A Little Bit,” shouts Obito at the small white speaker, blinking purple as it registers his voice. 

_“Playing, ‘Just A Little Bit by Julian Taylor Band, Sir Supreme Uchiha.”_

Obito laughs, waving a hand as the music starts to play. “Yeah I am.”

He continues to dance to himself on the sofa, feet poking out the back, still sock less. “Hey Datara, what day is it?”

_“Sunday, sir.”_

“What is the _date_?”

_“10th of February. The day before the 11th.”_

Obito scratches his nose. He feels like he’s missing something. “Did I buy the sarcastic version? Or do you feed off your master?”

He’s just about to stand to grab some socks to try the next level of his evening slide when there’s a knock on the door. It’s late - or he thinks so. It’s dark at least. 

Pushing up off the sofa, he pauses, staring at the door. No-one really visits him here unless it’s a reason. And there’s no reason today. Sometimes he’s been caught on a ruse from those who wish he was dead instead of the names on his hands, and opened himself to pitchforks and fire. He always thought they were chicken shit for not just kicking down his door.

Knock knock. “I’m not here to punch you Obito,” comes a familiar voice, “but if you don’t open this door. I will.”

“I’m busy,” he lies, his hands hovering over the locks. 

“Uh-huh. Open.”

Click, click, he takes his time with the four locks before he at last opens the door. There’s a few seconds of silence as he takes in the sight before him and then Obito just, laughs. 

Naked, but for his long, black arm gloves, a bag by his feet, and a smile, stands Kakashi.

“Did you walk over here like that?” Obito leans against the doorframe as he asks, his robe hanging precariously off his bare body. Kakashi wonders why he even wears it.

“No. I’m a ninja. I ninjad over here.”

Obito laughs. And he laughs. This kind of shit is usually reserved for him - not Kakashi. He’s the one that runs over the rooftops of Konoha, naked at 9am, socks taped to his chest; he’s the one that makes himself sick by eating eight ice lollies in an hour provocatively in-front of Kakashi to distract him; he’s the one that took apart Kakashi’s desk chair and stuck it together with enough glue to hold it together - but not him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you high?”

Kakashi raises an arm, matching his stance against the doorframe. “No.”

“Oh I get it. You did the old swicharoo. Oh! Orochimaru is that you? Stick out your tongue! Please!”

Kakashi scratches his forehead, but he can’t help but just, smile. “Can you just let me in. It’s freezing.”

Slyly, Obito looks down, but steps aside, letting him in. “I can see.” He closes the door with his back, never once taking his eyes off his company. He walks so smooth, with an ease that speaks as if there’s no weight on that hidden heart, on that pretty head. But there’s almost as much as Obito carries, he’s just good at it.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, back still pressed to door as Kakashi places the bag on the table and his arse, too.

He looks a little confused at his question, like this entrance should be, if not something expected, understandable. “Happy birthday?”

“Wait - what? Datara when is my birthday?”

_“10th of February. Today, Sir Supreme Uchiha.”_

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” He pushes off from the door, re-fastening his robe.

Kakashi turns to the small speaker arching a brow. “You called it Datara. Also. I’m not even going to touch what you make it call you.”

“I miss the old boy,” he says with a smile, sliding next to Kakashi. “And maybe sometime you could-”

“Never.”

“Not even on my birthday?” Obito pouts, dragging his teeth along the dip of his scar on his lip. He knows Kakashi touches there a lot, and looks even more.

“Not even if you’re dying.” He reaches out and pinches Obito’s chin, stopping the insistent teeth to scar to lip business that persists. “Stop that. At least until you open your present.”

Obito licks his finger playfully before he falls against Kakashi’s cold chest. Their eyes weren’t level anymore. He enjoyed the way Kakashi lazily looked, up. “Present? I…can’t remember the last time I got a present.” 

“Well…you have four.”

“How generous,” he says, nudging a knee between Kakashi’s thighs, enjoying the way he sighs.

“Only one is from me.”

Obito pauses, his fingers poised with threads of Kakashi’s grey hair slipping through. “What?” 

Other people cared?

“Naruto gave me one two weeks ago. He’s been asking me almost daily if I’ve given it to you yet. There’s a beautiful smelling box from Sakura and Ino. Sai asked me what was ‘an appropriate present for a reformed criminal and my lover’. That was…an awkward hour.” 

Tilting his head against Kakashi’s, Obito laughs. He’s sure the blush is unmistakeable, and he keeps his damp eyes low, long lashes a fan to hide their confession. “An hour?”

“He had concept sketches.”

“Was this your doing?” he asks, twisting Kakashi’s fingers with his. 

Lips grace Obito’s eyelids, kissing away what he doesn’t want to show. “All theirs.”

For a while, there’s nothing but the soft music and each other in their arms, Obito’s breathing a little quicker than it was before. His lashes kiss Kakashi’s forehead, cool and damp. His fingers trace the jut of hip, nicked with a scar and mole. He’s touched it so many times. Held it, scratched, kissed, bit. But it’s never felt like now.

“This is my first birthday I’ve-”

He can’t finish the words. But with Kakashi there’s so many times he doesn’t need to. Words often don’t work between them, crumbling from mouths that don’t know where to begin, or end. 

“I know it’s not mu-”

Obito kisses away the rest.

“Open your presents,” whispers Kakashi against his lips. “And careful. There’s a cake in there too.”

He opens the bag, seeing a big, soft messily wrapped present in bright orange paper, then a pink box with purple ribbon that when he leans closer, smells of spring, a hard, rectangle one, neatly wrapped sits at the side from Sai, and then a small soft one remains, sitting on top of the cake box. “Figures yours is the smallest,” he teases as he pulls it out, unable to drop his smile. He tears at the dog themed paper eagerly to find a pair of soft, bright red booty shorts emblazoned in the letters ‘BIRTHDAY BOOTY’.

Obito laughs, kissing Kakashi once, twice, before pulling them on and twirling around on the spot, tucking his robe to the side. “Have I told you I love you?”

“I think that’s the first time,” says Kakashi quietly, reaching out a hand.

“Datara I’m horny, play ‘Let’s Get It On’.”

_“Playing ‘Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye’. Enjoy, Sir Supreme Uchiha.”_

Obito takes his hand. “I will.”

 


End file.
